


Yet I Am Just a Man, Still Learning How to Fall

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Genderfluid Character, Other, Past Abuse, Recovery, Regret, Self-Blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, he had to give up his futile game of guess-who and flip the phone open, holding it his ear and stifling a yawn. "Hello...?"</p>
<p>"I thought you should know... Adachi asked for you to come see him today," Dojima said on the other end. "I should have told you earlier, but who likes making plans to go to jail? Seems kinda... morbid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yet I Am Just a Man, Still Learning How to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> [Jack](http://milesupshur.tumblr.com) and I are doing a week of P4 prompts! The last day's prompt is "grave."

Souji's phone rang early—even earlier than his alarm would usually go off, and the light was blinding, the sound utterly jarring as he tried to figure out whose name it was on the screen. Nobody from the Investigation Team, probably; most of them stuck to texts, aside from Naoto, who was polite enough to refrain from calling before eight in the morning. It wasn't likely to be his parents, either. They rarely, if ever, called. Some things never changed, not even after growing up and moving out.

Eventually, he had to give up his futile game of guess-who and flip the phone open, holding it his ear and stifling a yawn. "Hello...?"

"I thought you should know... Adachi asked for you to come see him today," Dojima said on the other end. "I should have told you earlier, but who likes making plans to go to jail? Seems kinda... morbid."

_Adachi_. The room was silent and dark, but Souji looked blankly at the slight reflection of rising light from outside bouncing off the TV screen through a crack in the curtains, turning it an eerie shade of yellow for just a moment. He'd just about given up on hearing those words by now, and it brought him to speechlessness.

The silence felt as though it stretched for minutes instead of seconds before Dojima spoke again. "Souji? Are you still there?"

"Yeah." His voice cracked a little, and he told himself it was just because he was still tired. With some effort, he tore his gaze away from the TV and instead crawled out of his futon, disturbing Angel from where she was sleeping on top of his feet, effectively numbing them. His shuffle into the kitchen was thus awkward and a little bit painful, like walking on pins and needles, and he sighed tiredly as he came to a stop by the counter. Usually by the time he got up, the coffee maker would already be brewing, but on this particular occasion, he was forced to turn it on himself, and he stood there, quiet and with drooping eyes as it hissed to life.

"Can you make it? He seemed pretty serious about it," said Dojima.

"I can make it. I'll leave as soon as I can," Souji replied.

"Thanks."

"Of course. Goodbye, uncle."

"Bye, Souji."

In his half-awake state, and tired of waiting for the coffee, he placed his phone down and stumbled back toward his closet. His eyes felt like they were magnetized toward a particular knee-length skirt, silken floaty pink with prints of roses. Adachi had bought it for Souji (though not picked it out—his taste in fashion was appropriately horrendous) what must have been a couple years ago now, back when they were dating. Back when Souji hadn't known the truth about Adachi or the murders. He hadn't worn it since then probably—not because he hated it  _or_ Adachi, but because it was painful to think about him most days. It wasn't like Souji had ever had much luck falling out of love, or forgetting the good parts of people.

The skirt was paired with a blouse grabbed from the closet after he showered, along with simple black tights and a pair of flats. Adachi had always hated the reminder that Souji was taller than him, and it still managed to feel like habit. If he was dressing up for Adachi, then this was how he should do it, after all. It was likely someone would chastise him for still putting his happiness ahead of Souji's own, but things were much different now. It wasn't an obligation, at the very least.

By the time he managed to get out the door with a cup of coffee in one hand and his keys in the other, jingling them at Angel to keep her from trying to dive out the door after him, more than an hour had passed. He had to run to catch the bullet train, panting and finding it kind of surreal that he was doing this at all. So many times he'd imagined it, coming up with what he'd say, detailing how hard it had been, how trusting people have been more of a struggle than it had ever been before. But he hadn't been angry, and it hadn't taken long to realize that Adachi couldn't take any of that back, even if he felt bad. Now his tongue was ominously barren of anything he could say, and by the time he'd gotten off the train and walked up to the prison gates, he still hadn't made up his mind.

As he took a seat in front of the glass partition separating him from the other side of the room, he felt like he was made up of nothing but nerves. Adachi wasn't there yet, and he waited quietly, clearing his throat once before checking his clothes to ensure he looked as presentable as possible. And finally, there was the sound of voices and footsteps coming closer, and the clink of keys in a lock.

A group stepped inside, the guards mostly clouding Souji's view of Adachi. He couldn't catch much more than a glimpse of cloth, the hint of a forearm, but no face. Then they pulled away from him, and Souji found himself face to face with Adachi for the first time in a little under three years.

He wasn't so different, really—a few lines here and there on his face, a tiredness about him. The biggest change of all was that he wasn't wearing that suit anymore, but instead a nondescript uniform which mostly disappeared when he sat down on the other side of the partition.

A moment passed before he looked directly at Souji. He got himself settled first, eyes directed to the side, and then they moved over to meet Souji's. He didn't seem to know what facial expression he should be going for; a small smile was given at first, which flattened out into a neutral look, and then he grimaced before settling back into something blank.

"Hi," Souji said after a moment of waiting for Adachi to speak first.

"Hey. You look really cute today," Adachi replied, leaning forward to rest his chin in one hand. "I always forget how cute you are..."

Words like that could still made his heart jump in his chest, though it felt reserved now, after everything that had happened, and within the depressing walls of the prison. There wasn't any hope for them here. And still Souji couldn't help the cry for  _something_ within his very bones—he'd never been able to.

"Thank you," he said in reply, smiling instead of begging him for some form of fondness like he used to.

Thinking of Adachi after finding out the truth had been so painful that he was surprised he could manage this now. Even a year ago, it had been too difficult to smile, even if he tried to think of their past together—or maybe that was what had made it so hard in the first place. He'd thought Adachi had been so different, that the way he would touch Souji like he was desperate was something  _special_ , purer than it actually was. Or that his words weren't just manic pleas, some kind of prayer that his recklessness really could fix something inside of him.

But Souji wasn't strong enough to take a man like Adachi and transform him into someone loving.  _Nobody_  was strong enough for that. And since coming to terms with that fact, it had been like releasing himself from some bind. He still blamed himself, in some part, but not as much anymore. Some of this had to be chalked up to inevitably.

"... I was really surprised you wanted to see me," Souji said. It had felt like a dream, truthfully; Adachi had  _never_ asked for him, and each and every time Souji requested it, he'd been denied a visit. Only Dojima had ever gone, and he gave updates if asked, but they paled in comparison to actually getting to  _see_ Adachi.

"Now's as good a time as any, right?" he asked. His gaze was to the side again, lips pursed. There were small creases around his eyes, but had it really been that long? Apparently long enough for Souji to graduate. Long enough for him to take a step toward working through everything that had happened, long enough for him to begin putting his life together again. He was in veterinary school, worked in an animal clinic as part of his training, and had his own apartment. It wasn't a lot, but he was moving in the right direction. And his friends were there, of course. But he still felt the loss of Adachi.

"Are you doing alright?" Souji wondered. This conversation sounded so awkward to his ears, but he supposed he was used to things being like this between them. He crossed his hands in his lap, finding that so many of the gestures of intimacy he used to perform for Adachi were no longer possible. He couldn't hold his hand in the hopes that it might soften him, or lean his head on his shoulder. There were a few thick inches of glass between them, and furthermore, the unsurety of whether or not Adachi would still accept such gestures.

His therapist talked about the importance of moving forward, and he was trying each and every day. But it was too hard to let go of someone, and that included Adachi, regardless of all the things he'd done to hurt Souji. Even now he felt the tiny pangs of missed love, knowing that Adachi had never felt the same way for him, knowing that he never would—but Souji couldn't help himself. He couldn't change what he felt any more than he could change what had happened. There was still a ghost of desire inside of him, that wanted to hold Adachi.

But in front of him, he merely shrugged. "It's  _prison_ , Souji-kun. How good do you think it can be?"

"I didn't mean it like  _that_..."

"I get to sleep a lot. They feed me. It's alright," Adachi said. Then, for almost the first time ever, he genuinely asked, "How's things outside? You're doing good, right? Somebody like you definitely wouldn't fall off the high road..."

"I'm fine. I'm in school right now," said Souji.

"Yeah, Dojima-san said something about that. Animals, huh? You always did like cats way more than anything else... Hey, what happened to the one I got you?"

"I still have her. She's at home right now." The little white and gray munchkin had been unsurprisingly displeased about her relocation from Adachi's apartment to the Dojima household, and shortly after, to Tokyo, then  _yet again_ back to Okina a little over a year later—but she'd settled. His little Angel, as much of a survivor as he was; she was one of the few remnants he had of Adachi, and the only one that didn't hurt to look at sometimes.

"Geez... I guess I'm not surprised. You really fought me to get her in the first place..."

There was a tiny smile on Souji's face, nostalgic and amused. "Well... I really wanted her."

"She was a brat. Just like you," said Adachi with a laugh. "I bet you still are."

It was strange, speaking with him this way—there was almost a level of fondness in his voice, like a little bit of anger had drained out of him since the last time they'd seen each other, Adachi on the ground, panting and bloodied, resigned, Souji staring down at him, betrayed. Souji wished it hadn't taken  _jail_ to make him anything like this. But it had been too late for Adachi, hadn't it? Regardless, he would have gone down this road.

"I'm just trying to do my best, Adachi-san. The same as always. I hope you are too," he said, and his voice softened, knowing he was right on the verge of saying something incriminating— _I miss you? I love you?_ It was the wrong time to say it. It was too late for them, really, but a part of him always clung on to some fantasy, as if when Adachi got out of prison, they might have a chance at trying something real. But he knew they were over. He knew he had to listen and understand when people told him he should never allow himself into that kind of situation again. Still, it was hard to get rid of the part of himself that wondered.

"Hey. I'm doing the same as ever, right? Don't worry about me."

Souji nodded. It was hard, but he'd try not to.

"Uh, actually... there was something I wanted to ask you, though. Your uncle still has that box of my stuff, right?"

"I think so," Souji said. It was probably up in what used to be his room—the room that still, for all intents and purposes,  _looked_ like his room. "Why?"

"I was just thinking, if there was anything you wanted in it, you should take it. It's just sitting around."

Souji's brows furrowed in thought. As much as he appreciated that, he had no idea how good an idea it was; it certainly wasn't going to help him detach from Adachi. But still, he couldn't stop himself from agreeing.

"Alright. I'll stop by after this."

Adachi nodded. Their time together was probably winding to a close, and that scared Souji. But this hadn't been the terrible trip that he'd assumed it would be.

On a sudden burst of courage, floating on a high of having been allowed this much, he spoke. "Can I come and see you again sometime?"

"Heh..." Adachi rubbed his forehead, and sighed out a long breath. "Sure, why not? If you feel like that's a good idea after today."

"I think it will be," Souji said earnestly. It might actually help him to come to terms with what had happened if he could be around Adachi a little bit. Not enough to attach himself the way he had before. Just enough. The word 'closure' came to mind, but he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Whatever you say, kid." The guards were coming in, and Adachi glanced back at them before standing up slowly.

Souji mirrored him, reluctant to leave considering how little time they'd had together. But they'd have time after this. The thought made it easier.

"Hey. It was good to see you again, brat," Adachi said as they cuffed him. His smile was weak, ghostly, and still, it thrilled Souji.

"It was good to see you too, Adachi-san. Thank you for letting me."

Adachi nodded, and they started to pull him away, only he turned his head one more time, struggling a little in what might have been desperation, if he'd been looking closely enough through glasses that weren't so rose-tinted. "Take care. Okay, Souji-kun?"

"I will. You too, Adachi-san," Souji said. And then, because he couldn't hold it back any longer, it fell from his lips. "I love you."

But he was gone, and he probably wouldn't have said it anyway. After a moment, Souji turned too, walking out of the prison with a sense of lightness warming him. This was a step in the right direction, wasn't it?

He felt it inside of him still as he got on the train, riding to Inaba and walking through the brightly-lit, perfectly familiar streets to Dojima's. With the key he still had, he let himself inside, headed up the stairs into his old room, and went straight for the box.

There were all kinds of things heaped into it—a mixture of clothes, things from work, his laptop and phone. Souji barely sifted through it, but found himself weak after the events of earlier, unable to bear the thought of leaving much of it behind. There was still something special about all of this.

He hefted the entire box up though it was heavy, resting it on his hip as he made his way carefully back down the stairs. In the kitchen, he placed it on the counter so that he could write a quick note for Dojima letting him know that he'd been by, and then he picked it up and went on his way again.

By the time he arrived back in his apartment an hour later, his arms were tired and heavy, and he placed it down with a grunt, eying it only momentarily. He had homework to do, and a shift at work later anyway—he'd get to it in the morning, after a night of sleep. That might give him better insight about which of the contents were safe for him to keep, anyway.

But it was hard to get through the day, knowing that it was at home waiting for him. And furthermore, he kept thinking about Adachi as he worked. He certainly didn't regret seeing him, but there was a bittersweet feeling now that it was over with, like he'd let go of something. It was a strange feeling that he did his best to set aside.

When he finally arrived back home, he was exhausted, stripping out of his scrubs before laying his futon out and sinking into it with a sense of gratefulness. Soon he felt the heavy weight of Angel laying across his stomach, and he drifted off easily for the few hours that passed between then and six in the morning, when she started rubbing her head up under his chin. He sighed, trying to turn away, but she was insistent, so he stuck a hand out from under the covers and petted at her tiredly. She was warm and soft; it felt nice, and he drifted a little more, until he realized that he wasn't going to have much luck falling back asleep for good.

Slowly, he got up. Light was starting to spill into the room, making each surface glow like it had a halo, and he yawned and stretched, willing himself not to be too frustrated about being up. Then his eyes fell upon the box, and slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped forward until he could crouch down beside it, Angel pressed up against him as he started to pull things out.

There was Adachi's favorite hoodie on top, a navy one that he wore almost always if he wasn't in his suit. Souji set that aside—it was almost certainly something he'd want to keep. Underneath it were a few pairs of jeans and sweatpants, but they didn't particularly interest him. There were some books, mostly on the care and cleaning of guns, and alongside those, an actual  _gun_. Souji held his breath as he picked it up and waffled about what to do with it, finally checking the safety and bundling it up inside of Adachi's jeans.

Out of all of the things he pulled from the box, it was Adachi's phone that he gave the most attention to, taking it out and trying to power it on even though he knew it was most likely dead. With his suspicions confirmed, he plugged it in and sat waiting for it to turn on, his breath held as it went through the startup cycle. And finally, it went to the home screen. The wallpaper was the same one Souji had set it to all those summers ago—the two of them together, Souji smiling at the camera, Adachi frowning just a little bit. It brought a stab of pain to his heart; Adachi had had the chance to change it all that time, from the moment they took that photo to the moment he ran off inside of the TV, but he hadn't. Souji swallowed, staring down at it, and wondered why he felt like crying.

His phone rang then, shrilly bringing him out of his contemplation, and he grabbed at it if only to silence it, but he was confused to find Dojima's name on the screen. Still, he answered. "Is everything alright, uncle?"

There was silence. A long, long, worrisome silence.

"Uncle? Are you there?" he asked.

"Souji..." Dojima said, then he sighed. "Did Adachi say something to you yesterday?"

"He asked me to get anything I wanted from the box of his stuff that was in my room... Why?"

Dojima sighed again, a longer one this time.

"... Is something wrong?" Souji asked, tone lilting toward nervous worry.

"He was executed last night."

Souji's brows furrowed momentarily. "What do you mean...?"

"Last night. They executed him."

He swallowed, staring at the wall. Was it possible he was hearing this wrong? Was it possible  _Dojima_ was wrong? Because this was too cruel. Why would Adachi have asked that of him? Why would he ask him to come, and tell him he could come again,  _knowing_ that he'd be gone? Or had he even? Was it just a stroke of luck?

Only it couldn't be. There was no way it could be a coincidence. Souji crumpled, his chin hitting his chest as he drew in a shaky breath. "Say that again?"

"They executed him," Dojima said.

How was that  _possible_? It couldn't be. Souji couldn't have lost him, not when he thought he might have this one chance. All this time he'd been waiting, and it had ended as quickly as that... There was no way. Reality couldn't be this cruel.

"Souji?"

He covered his mouth. It was too shocking for him to even  _feel_ anything right now, but it was still horrifying. "I'm here," he said through the muffling force of his hand.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. He wasn't, but that was likely obvious to Dojima even with the blankness of his voice.

"Do you want to come over? I'm taking the day off today. His mom will be here."

Souji's hand pushed up, covering his eyes, pressing down sharply. "Yeah. I'll come over in a little while."

"Alright... Take care."

He hung up. Already Souji was groping for Adachi's phone again, flipping it open and staring at the wallpaper, staring at his bright, happy face, Adachi's irritated, pinched one—despite everything, they seemed alright together. They seemed like they  _could_ have been alright together. He waited for the tears to come, but they didn't. And he didn't know why he was so frustrated, but he tossed the phone down and grabbed Adachi's hoodie again, moving over to the couch to lay down with it clutched tight in his arms.

He'd always tried to make Adachi happy. Even though it had ripped and torn at him constantly, he'd sacrificed so many parts of himself for this. And what did he have now? A dead ex-boyfriend that hadn't even really loved him in the first place? He pushed his face into the hoodie, breathing in deeply.

But he'd never been able to hate or regret. Apparently it was alright to do so; regardless, Souji could only torture himself with thoughts of what could have been. If he'd seen the signs earlier, if he'd stopped this, if he'd been able to change Adachi—but he  _couldn't_. And he sobbed suddenly, hating that he could finally accept that. It would have been easier to deny.

Adachi couldn't have loved him. He couldn't have treasured Souji the way Souji treasured him. But he found himself wondering all the same if they could have taken a step forward together after all of this. He supposed he'd never know, now, and heaved in the scent of a dead man through his tears, sobbing out into the silence of his apartment and the sudden stinging shatter of his own heart for the second time in too many years.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://bunansa.tumblr.com)


End file.
